"Certainly. As far as I can remember, Raymond Boynton and the red-haired Boynton girl came in shortly afterwards. Miss King arrived last. Dinner was then ready to be served. One of the servants was dispatched by the dragoman to announce the fact to old Mrs. Boynton. The man came running back with one of his comrades in a state of some agitation and spoke to the dragoman in Arabic. There was some mention of Mrs. Boynton being taken ill. Miss King offered her services. She went out with the dragoman. She came back and broke the news to the members of Mrs. Boynton's family."

"She did it very abruptly," put in Miss Pierce. "Just blurted it out. I think myself it ought to have been done more gradually."

"And how did Mrs. Boynton's family take the news?" asked Poirot.

For once both Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce seemed a little at a loss. The former said at last, in a voice lacking its usual self-assurance: "Well—really—it is difficult to say. They—they were very quiet about it."

"Stunned," said Miss Pierce. She offered the word more as a suggestion than as a fact.

"They all went out with Miss King," said Lady Westholme. "Miss Pierce and I very sensibly remained where we were."

A faintly wistful look was observable in Miss Pierce's eye at this point.

"I detest vulgar curiosity!" continued Lady Westholme. The wistful look became more pronounced. It was clear that Miss Pierce had had perforce to hate vulgar curiosity too!

"Later," concluded Lady Westholme, "the dragoman and Miss King returned. I suggested that dinner should be served immediately to the four of us, so that the Boynton family could dine later in the marquee without the embarrassment of strangers being present. My suggestion was adopted and immediately after the meal I retired to my tent. Miss King and Miss Pierce did the same. Mr. Cope, I believe, remained in the marquee; he is a friend of the family and thought he might be of some assistance to them. That is all I know, M. Poirot."

"When Miss King had broken the news, all the Boynton family accompanied her out of the marquee?"

"Yes—no, I believe, now that you come to mention it, that the red-haired girl stayed behind. Perhaps you can remember. Miss Pierce?"

"Yes, I think—I am quite sure she did."

Poirot asked: "What did she do?"

Lady Westholme stared at him. "What did she do, M. Poirot? She did not do anything, as far as I can remember."

"I mean was she sewing, or reading, did she look anxious, did she say anything?"

"Well, really—" Lady Westholme frowned. "She—er—she just sat there, as far as I can remember."

"She twiddled her fingers," said Miss Pierce suddenly. "I remember noticing—poor thing; I thought, it shows what she's feeling! Not that there was anything to show in her face, you know—just her hands turning and twisting."

"Once," went on Miss Pierce conversationally, "I remember tearing up a pound note that way—not thinking of what I was doing. 'Shall I catch the first train and go to her?' I thought (it was a great aunt of mine—taken suddenly ill), 'or shall I not?' And I couldn't make up my mind one way or the other and then I looked down, and instead of the telegram I was tearing up a pound note—a pound note!—into tiny pieces!" Miss Pierce paused dramatically.